


The Inconvenience of Memory

by Nicolle



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: a nice little spooky mystery just in time for halloween!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-10
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-15 18:49:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12326781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nicolle/pseuds/Nicolle
Summary: Frisk Evernight accepts a most dangerous job: to release the curse that has consumed Mt. Ebott and return the body of the murdered Chara Dreemurr to her adoptive family.





	1. Still Life

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Undertale belongs to Toby Fox. This story is copyright to me.
> 
> Note: Here's a spooky little story in time for Halloween! I was inspired to write it while waiting for a character decision on a story I am ghost writing for an artist friend. While the first chapter here is a stand alone, you can stay tuned for what happens next!

Chapter 1: Still Life

Rain pounded on the roof of the small, paddle driven boat. Frisk ignored it as he rowed, even as he ignored the painful strain in his shoulders and back. His dark shirt stuck to his back, slick with sweat, and his jeans had long rubbed his legs raw. He'd been at this for days, but refused to show how much the exertion agonized him.

"*monsoon's pretty heavy this year." Sans leaned out as far as he dared over the edge of the boat, his blue rain jacket reaching for the water. As a skeleton, he was rather light, and easily tossed if the keel bumped into something. And, with the river this swollen, the biggest worry was hitting a submerged island… or tree. "*we should have waited for nicer weather."

"This weather is the reason we're out here, Sans. The more swollen the river is, the less climbing we'll need to do over the ridge," Frisk gritted out.

The undead frowned, an unusual thing for him. Sans liked to always appear happy, even when he was blisteringly furious. He shoved boney hands into the pockets of his black shorts. "*why are you doing this again? i'm sure there's some other necromancer who can handle it."

Frisk continued to row, frowning. It wasn't like Sans to pretend to even have an inkling of caring. Worse yet, though he and Papyrus pretended otherwise, they were keenly interested in this job. "I'm sure there are, but I'm the one the Dreemurrs hired and I'm rather interested in seeing this thing for myself."

Frisk looked to Papyrus, a much taller skeleton by far, dressed in a long, black trench coat and blue jeans, but received no response. The undead continued to steer the boat quietly, unwilling to give up his thoughts.

The skeletons had been a singular person in life: Dr. W.D. Gaster, an extremely intelligent master of necromancy today's necromancers studied extensively in school. Looking to exploit his intelligence after his death, demons stole his corpse and resurrected him, only to have him split into two, distinct, skeletal undead. Angered by the tricky spell the late Gaster had laid upon his own body, the demons sold them as slaves. They'd changed hands multiple times in the Red City before Frisk won their freedom by luck alone.

The winning had come with several complications, one of which being that the brothers' undeath was linked to his life. When he died, they would return to death as well, reforming back into Gaster. And while Frisk trusted that Papyrus wouldn't kill him in his sleep, he was never sure of Sans. The shorter of the two 'brothers' was willing enough to follow Frisk around, but felt no real loyalty to him.

It made dealing with them difficult even as he researched ways to destroy the link and give them their eternal rest. He'd even gone so far as to be used in flatlining experiments in which he would be resuscitated, but those hadn't worked either. Instead, it'd only forged the bond deeper. Stuck as he was, he'd broken ties with many friends and loved ones, even his beloved Sarah. They'd been discussing marriage and children, but that wasn't going to be a possibility when he was forced to cast a protection on himself in order to sleep at night.

It was very likely the reason why neither skeleton had dissuaded him from taking the job. All who'd tried before, died in the attempt.

Of course, if he succeeded, he would have access to the royal family's secret library and hidden archives. Which was something the 'brothers' were also interested in.

Frisk continued to row, looking over his shoulder from time to time, to see how far they were from their destination. Despite the heavy rain, the river ran like sludge, and if they wished to make landfall before night, someone had to row. They passed the tops of leafy, green trees, their islands submerged, and floated by debris from houses washed out by the monsoon.

Sans pointed. "*i see the ridge. it's through the fog that way."

"Can you spot a place to rest the boat?"

"*yeah."

Sans pointed and Papyrus steered in that direction. As the boat came to rest against a grassy hill, Frisk jumped out, grabbed the rope attached to the bow, and pulled the boat up the side of the hill as far as he could before tying it off around the trunk of a thick tree. As the skeletons disembarked, Frisk looked around. They were halfway up the side of a heavily wooded ridge that blocked the river from entering the hills beyond.

Looking back for a moment to make sure the boat was secure, Frisk rolled his shoulders to adjust his backpack and headed for the top of the ridge. The steep climb made his stiff legs ache, but the chaffing from sitting in the boat for so long was now gone. While he was no stranger to long treks, the pouring rain made this one particularly odious. His hiking boots had been covered in mud even before getting in the boat the first time. Now it was starting to splatter his legs.

At the top of the ridge, the weather cleared, the mountains funnelling the clouds over the river. Sans and Papyrus came up next to him and gazed down across rolling, green and gold hued hills lit with the warm glow of sunset. But even this idyllic scene could not hide the roiling, black fog that swirled and churned around Mt. Ebott.

"*woah! it looks like calamity ganon!"

A smile tugged at Frisk's lips. "That it may, but this isn't a video game. That's the real deal. That fog is a ghost grown powerful on the curse laid on it, becoming a malignant force of nature guarding its own grave."

"AND WE ARE HERE TO WASH AWAY ITS BONES, RELEASING THE CURSE, AND RESTORE MT. EBOTT TO THE ROYAL FAMILY." Papyrus frowned. "I HAVE NO MEMORY OF THIS THING."

Frisk nodded. "It happened about two years after your death and you've been… occupied the last fifty or so years." He took a breath, watching the fog all but boil. "This is a story I know well. It's one you are taught in history class, regardless of your course of study. The Dreemurr royal family adopted a daughter and this adoption was unpopular among the lesser nobility because she was a commoner."

"AH. I DO REMEMBER THAT. I DIED JUST BEFORE THE CHILD TURNED EIGHTEEN."

Frisk continued, "In a bid to appease the lesser lords, the girl asked to simply be named a caretaker of Mt. Ebott, the Dreemurr ancestral home. And when she came of age, it was granted. As the caretaker, she would have no title or claim to the throne. She'd just be responsible for a house and a mountain that'd become little more than a tourist attraction in a very scenic part of the country."

Sans jerked a thumb at the blasphemous fog. "*so how did that happen?"

"A group of lesser nobles murdered her. Murder with a heaping helping of necromantic cursing. I mean the really awful stuff from the last century. Not the clinically clean stuff we do today."

"WHY?"

Frisk looked up at Papyrus, unsure of what to make of the taller skeleton's sorrowful tone. "No one knows." He frowned. "Or at least, anyone who does is dead. Every person at the house that day never returned."

Both brothers thought this over as Frisk searched for the best path down the ridge and found the remains of an asphalt road just down the way. Hiking along it made for an easy walk, but it meant that they would reach the mountain just as it was getting dark.

"*do you want to stop for the night?"

Frisk frowned, thinking it over. "If I wait till tomorrow, the ghost will have less power during daylight hours, so it would be a disadvantage for it. But that's also a disadvantage for me. My skills are complemented by the night." He swung his backpack off his shoulder and pulled out an energy bar. "I'll see you both later. Or you'll both return to sweet oblivion."

"YOU ARE NOT TAKING US WITH YOU?"

Frisk's shoulders sagged in annoyance. "I brought you along to help with the boat. It's not a one person trip up the river. But I never take you into danger." He pulled his backpack on properly, and turned back toward the mountain. Unwrapping the energy bar, he took a bite as he walked forward. He was tired, but at least he wouldn't be hungry.

He could feel the brothers at his back as he approached that writhing mass of black fog.

Frisk stopped and turned on his heel, instantly annoyed. "Really? You're following me? Are you really that interested in seeing me die?"

Neither skeleton said anything.

Frisk groaned. "Fine. Do what you want. Just don't stab me in the back until after I finish the job." He continued up the mountain, doing his best to ignore the two behind him.

As good as he was at it, he hated these kind of jobs: go in, fix some crazy necromancy shit at huge personal risk, come back, maybe get the promised payment, usually not. The last one had been complicated and time consuming, but he'd been offered a substantial sum for it. Just stop the ghouls from rising in the local cemetery. By the time he'd finished the job, he'd fought a cult, saved several townsfolk from human sacrifice, and taken severe injuries. And, he'd been run out of town. The mayor and the town council never intended to make good on their part of the deal.

Though the royal family was very good about keeping their promises, he worried that he might end up worse off this time around. It would be very easy for a posted guard to 'forget' that he was supposed to be in the archive and kill him.

Through it all, he never asked the brothers to help. Ever. This job had been the first time. Usually he'd leave them somewhere they would be welcome and surrounded by books. Or video games. Biographies never mentioned Dr. Gaster being a video game aficionado, but if the brother's where any indication, that was definitely where he spent his down time.

As they came up to the rolling fog, Frisk picked a couple wildflowers growing from the path and tossed them into the fog. It instantly withered and hit the ground a pile of dust. He picked up a rock and tossed it in. It hit the ground, unchanged.

"Stone skin it is then." He looked back at the brothers. "Are you sure you're coming along?"

"*we're following, kid."

Frisk sighed. He was going to use up the little energy he had way too fast. He cast a spell over them that would armor their bones in stone before casting stone skin on himself and walked into the fog. The inky darkness of it was thick, but not wet like you would have expected, simply blinding. Shutting his eyes, he trusted his feet to feel out the road forward. Reaching back for the brothers, we was shocked to feel Papyrus' large fingers wrap around his. The tall skeleton moved ahead of him and pulled him along, not the least bit perturbed by the darkness. Sans' jacket brushed against his other arm, letting him know where the shorter skeleton stood.

Papyrus stopped suddenly. "WE ARE THROUGH THE FOG."

Frisk opened his eyes and found himself in front of a tall, cast iron gate, the name DREEMURR artfully forged into the arch overhead. Now close to the house itself, it was clear that the fog merely wrapped around the mountain, but did not completely cover it. The little bit of evening sun still left hugged trees. Beyond the iron gate was a long neglected garden, the more invasive plants having edged out the delicate flowers. An old fashioned, white farm house with blue trimming, set into the mountain itself, waited ahead. Well, what should have been a white farm house. The walls appeared to be caked with dirt and lichens.

Papyrus' white pinprick eyes watched him carefully. "WHAT WOULD YOU HAVE DONE HAD WE NOT BEEN HERE?"

Frisk shrugged, shaking off the stone skin spell. "I would have followed the road until I was through the fog."

The tall skeleton frowned. "THE ROAD DIVERGED IN SEVERAL PLACES."

"I would have gotten there eventually."

"YOU DID NOT INTEND TO USE A DARK SIGHT SPELL."

Frisk groaned. "I need to conserve my strength, Papyrus. I don't know what's in there and wandering around in the dark is not an imposition."

Sans walked up to the gate and pulled on it, brow bones going up. "*huh. guess we can just walk right in."

Frisk grabbed Sans collar and pulled him back. "Idiot! Don't just walk in like that! We don't know what's inside there!"

The shorter skeleton looked at him, plainly annoyed. "*I am not a fool, Frisk. I was once the greatest necromancer in the world and you will not treat Papyrus and I as if we are common undead."

Frisk leaned in, getting in the skeleton's face. "Then stop acting like common undead."

He reached into a pocket, pulling out two plastic baggies, one with ground fennel and the other with white sea salt. He poured some of the fennel in his hand first and tossed it through the gate. Seeing no reaction, he did the same with the salt. While the salt itself did nothing, but its movement attracted the plant life and a few vines slithered along the ground toward the path up to the house.

Frisk sealed up the bags and put them away before raising his hands to cast an old, but tried and true cantrip with a little twist: create boiling water. He funneled the water in a gush at the plants, killing the vines that came close and causing all the others to quickly shrink back lest they die as well. Clearing himself a nice path, he walked up to the house.

Papyrus nodded, a little smile on his skull. "THAT WAS PARTICULARLY INGENIOUS."

Frisk shrugged. "When you grow up poor, you can't afford vegicides to kill weeds in the garden. You learn to use what you have."

"*so how did you afford necromancy school?"

It was never a question of how he managed acceptance into necromancy school. Frisk's natural affinity for the dead was plainly obvious in school, and he'd been sent acceptance letters to all three necromancy schools without even applying. And despite wanting to pursue a tech career, he'd taken what he'd been given since it meant higher pay.

At least, it was supposed too.

"Sarah's father funded me in exchange for my interning with his company. It's how I met her," Frisk answered, taking the opportunity to remind them that he'd given up substantial portions of a normal life for them. If not for them, he'd be married, have a stable job with a good income, and possibly children. Instead, he was twenty-five and constantly looking over his shoulder to keep an eye on two people who should have been happy he took the chance to save them and then went out of his way to find a way to free them into death's embrace.

By their twin frowns, the point was taken.

Climbing the porch of the farmhouse, Frisk tested every step before taking it to be sure that he wouldn't plunge through a piece of rotted wood. The porch was large and covered in leaves in various states of decay. A long, wooden, porch swing hung to the right, creaking softly in the breeze. The screen on the front, storm door was torn, but otherwise intact.

Frisk pulled out the baggies again and tossed the fennel and salt. Not getting a reaction, he pulled on a glove before opening the storm door and testing the lock on the inner door. The knob turned and the door swung open to reveal a pleasant living room with a wood floor and an overstuffed, floral patterned couch facing an old tube tv. Overall, the room looked cheery in the growing dark.

Sans reached over and flicked on the overhead light. By some miracle, it lit the room.

Laying on the couch was the desiccated mummy of a long dead man.

Papyrus knelt next to the corpse. "HE APPEARS TO HAVE DIED IN HIS SLEEP."

"No naps then. Good to know." Frisk picked up an umbrella from the iron forged stand next to the door and used it to move the mummy's arm. "That's the Bloodworth University crest. Looks like we found one of my predecessors." He tossed a little salt on the man and received no reaction. "Looks to just be a regular, old corpse."

Turning, Frisk spied a split, wooden staircase, one stairway going up and the other down. An open doorway into the kitchen lay just beyond. Taking a quick look in the kitchen revealed a large, warm room of white cabinets and pine wood with a light yellow, pine wood stain that looked ready to host a family for dinner. Another desiccated corpse lay half across a counter top in the act of preparing a meal. It wore a Bloodworth University jacket as well. After checking that it wouldn't be getting back up, he returned to the stairs.

"Up or down? Up or down?"

"*down." Sans led the way, bare, boney feet clacking on the wood. The basement stairs widened as they went down, dropping into a large, open area with a dark brown, tile floor. Directly across from the stairs lay a plush, green rug with a mid century, dark brown couch, backed all the way to a dark, wood panelled wall and facing the stairs. A black and white photo of a particularly adorable boy and girl sitting in the back of an old pickup truck hung above the couch.

A loveseat to match the couch lay to the right, backed against a solid, white and gray, marble peninsula. To the left of the couch was a raised dais of brick on which an old, pot bellied, wood stove rested. On the loveseat rested another desiccated corpse, having died in the act of relaxing with a book.

Coming down the stairs revealed a full kitchen of old school, pale green, metal cabinets with a full dining table, though this table looked to exist for food prep. Two desiccated corpses appeared to be in the middle of conversation at the table, cups of tea between them.

On the other side of the stairs was another dining table, this looking to be the proper dining area with a dark wood china cabinet filled with some very old fashioned dishes, cups, serving bowls, and platters. A red wood, buffet cabinet rested against the far wall with a set of crystal candlesticks, and a lovely landscape painting hanging over it. An open door next to the buffet revealed a full bath with a shower. A desiccated corpse appeared to be taking a shower, though no water ran.

To the left of the buffet and next to the marble peninsula were two doors. One was an exterior door that, when checked, lead Frisk to a roof covered set of concrete steps up to the back patio attached to the second floor of the house where the straight line of the house disconnected with the soil of the mountain. The second door lead into a laundry room that held both the boiler and the oil heat tank. Multiple storage shelves lined the wall opposite the tanks, each filled with carefully labelled boxes. Half collapsed against the laundry machines was another desiccated corpse.

"*looks like the dreemurrs built a whole house out of the basement before building the rest of the house." Sans tapped a support pole with one hand. "*i bet the living room was once split into bedrooms and the dining room over there was the original living room."

Frisk huffed. "What is going on here? Every one of these corpses is a necromancer and they had to have come here specifically to destroy the curse. So why are they just standing around like they died doing normal things?"

"FOR WHATEVER REASON, IT DOES NOT BODE WELL FOR US."

Frisk frowned. "Let's check the second floor."

They climbed the stairs, with Papyrus taking the lead this time. They reached the top and found a large, square, carpeted landing with a latched gate at the steps. What was once a children's play area, hence the latched gate, had been converted into an office. An old metal desk, painted baby blue, and an old metal filing cabinet, painted pale green, rested undisturbed. Frisk went over to the desk and found a single piece of paper, its condition pristine despite being fifty years old.

He lifted it and read it over.

"*whatcha got there?"

"It's a contract for mining rights." Frisk placed a finger against the text to follow the small type better. "Someone found veins of copper and iron in the cavern under the mountain." Frisk's jaw dropped. "The rights to mine the ores was awarded to Crawford and Sons."

"*that mean something?"

"Crawford and Sons is a commoner held company." He looked at the brother's with the sparkle of mirth in his eyes. "Quick history lesson: Just after you died, there was a huge economic downturn that resulted in a crash of stocks. A lot of the lesser nobles lost a ton of money during that time."

Frisk waved the paper a little. "They would have been desperate to get their hands on this kind of contract." He laughed. "All those years the lesser nobles treated her like shit and the moment she was given the chance for revenge, she awarded the mining rights to commoners!"

"AND PAID FOR SUCH AN ACTION WITH HER LIFE."

Frisk set the paper on the desk. "Don't blame the victim for the crime."

He turned and found only one door, which led into a small bedroom. Flicking on the light revealed a small bed with a yellow quilt, white painted nightstand, white painted dresser, and wall mirror. A door on the left led to another bedroom made up the same way, though the quilt in that one was blue. What appeared to be a walk in closet turned out to be a water closet.

The door on the right of the room with the yellow quilt was the master bedroom. Turning on the light in here lit up the chandelier over a large bed with a white painted, looping, metal frame. White, metal flowers were soldered on where the loops met. An incredibly white quilt with lace edging complimented white pillow shams with the same lace. A few throw pillows in soft floral patterns lay against the shams. A green, crocheted blanket lay draped over the end of the bed.

A white table with painted flowers rested next to the bed along with a floral, stained glass, lamp. A wardrobe, also painted white, finished the room. Instead of a closet, a full bathroom lay behind the door next to the bed. The door next to the wardrobe led into another laundry room, though this one appeared to be the one the caretaker actually used. Long dry clothing hung from a line.

Clothing that was smeared with blood.

Frisk looked down and found blood on the floor, but it wasn't a clean line. The splatter made it appear that the girl had kicked and fought as someone attempted to drag her to the back door. The back door led to a screen enclosed porch next to the patio the stairs from the basement had led too. The trail of blood went out the back door and into a summer kitchen, a small, red brick building with a chimney that most people would have mistaken for a shed today.

He ran for the blood splattered door and as soon as he touched the knob felt insanely tired. He yawned, stretching. He was just awake enough that he could cast his protection spell to keep Sans at bay while he slept. The bed with the blue quilt had looked entirely too comfortable. He turned, wandering back to the house.

"*kid? where are ya going?"

He waved Sans off, going into the laundry room. He could washout the stains in the clothes on the line tomorrow morning.

Papyrus grabbed him. "WHAT'S GOING ON?"

"Nothing. Just need some sleep."

Sans shook him. "*Frisk! You're under some spell! Snap out of it!"

Frisk yawned. "I'm fine. Just need some sleep."

Sans left eye began to glow a bright blue and he slapped Frisk across the face. "*Snap out of it! If you go to sleep, you'll end up dead like everyone else in this house!"

The sudden rush of adrenaline lit a fire in Frisk's lavender gray eyes. "What do you care?! You want me dead!"

Sans leaned in close, his skull glowing with his power. "*You can die after you break the curse!"

Papyrus unzipped Frisk's backpack, pulling out a tiny owl salt shaker whose holes had been sealed with wax. He shook it, tossing around the interior contents and activating the protection spell within it.

Frisk groaned. Shaking off the fuzziness in his head, he squeezed his eyes shut.

Sans and Papyrus steered him back out of the house and to the door of the summer kitchen. Taking breath to steady himself, he pulled out the baggies of fennel and salt, tossing both on the door. The fennel caused a quick purple flash, followed by a sound like glass shattering with the salt hit the door. Turning the knob, the door opened.

The food prep table that should have been in the middle of the kitchen had been tossed into a corner to make a space for the circle in which the victim was trapped. But instead of a skeleton, or at least a rotting body, the girl appeared whole. Her body, tied to stakes in the circle, forced her arms and legs into a star pattern. Burning, red candles endlessly dripped wax on her hands, feet, and long brown hair, sticking them to the red tile floor. Frisk leaned over to get a better look at her.

The girl… The girl wasn't dead. She lay in some sort of suspended animation, the knife wounds in her chest and neck lay open and perpetually leaking. The green she wore had long been strained an awful brown from the continuous trickle of gore. Frisk took a quick walk around the circle, looking sigils or written spell work that might interfere with getting her out.

He knelt next outside of the circle, feeling the barrier it made around her, and looked at the wounds.

"WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO?"

"First, I need to figure out a way to get to her without breaking the suspension that's keeping her alive. If I can do that, I can heal the wounds, and save her."

The brothers looked at each other.

"*how ya gonna do that?"

"I have no idea." Frisk pulled off his backpack and when he set it down, russet-brown eyes caught his attention.

She was awake.

And watching him.

Letting out a breath slowly, he dug around in his backpack, and pulled out his emergency flask of spider cider. It was one of the most potent healing stuffs in the world and this was the last bit Frisk had. He stuffed it in a pocket before pulling out his ritual knife.

The girl saw the knife and screamed, back arching off the floor. That great, undulating fog rushed away from it's churning path around the mountain and slammed into the small room. Frisk moved to quick cast stone skin again, knowing it'd be too slow. That he was a dead man.

Papyrus pushed him into the circle. He landed next to the girl and she screamed again, struggling against the bonds of both the rope and the spell. Frisk looked up to see the brothers summoning a barrier of glowing bones around themselves and the circle.

"*whatever you're going to do, kid, do it quick! we can't hold this off forever!"

Frisk looked to the girl. She'd stopped thrashing and was looking at him with a mix of fear and hate. He put the knife down and scooted up closer to her head. Pulling the flask out of his pocket, her gently lifted her head as best he could with her hair sealed to the floor by the red wax.

"It's a healing potion. I swear it."

She pursed her lips shut, holding her jaw shut tight.

A ghostly voice dripped from both skeletons' mouths at the same time. "*CHaRa! oPen YOur MouTH thIS InsTaNT!"

The girl blanched, and her mouth fell open. Frisk tipped the spider cider into her mouth, gently rubbing her throat to help her swallow. She coughed, sputtering a little, before moaning in relief. The cuts across her chest and neck closed and healed to tiny silver-white lines.

"*hurry it up, frisk!"

Frisk dropped the empty flask and picked up his ritual knife. Unsheathing the blade, he turned, cutting cleanly through each of the five, red candles. The wicks continued to burn, the candles remaining upright.

Gritting his teeth, he ran the blade across the palm of this hand and smeared his blood across the circle. That power that was life, death, and something in between, flowed from him, smashing through the magic of the circle. The red candles fell to the ground and the fog disappeared.

Exhausted, he crawled over the girl, cutting the ropes that held her and peeling away the wax that'd continually dripped on her for the last fifty years. When he got to her head, he frowned. There was no way to release her hair from the wax short of cutting it.

"Hold still. I promise. I'm not going to hurt you."

The girl watched him, but remained still as he lifted the knife and cut her hair as close to the wax as possible. Papyrus knelt on one knee to help the girl sit up while Frisk wrapped his cut hand in a bandage.

She stared at the skeleton for a moment before those russet-brown eyes looked to Frisk. Body stiff even after the full healing of the spider cider, she put her arms around him, resting her head on his chest, and wept. He held her, gently rubbing her back.

Frisk looked to the doorway and saw a clear night sky under a bright, almost full moon. He stood, pulling the girl up with him.

"Come on. I doubt you want to be here any longer than you have to be."

She nodded and let him draw her through the house, down the stairs, and out the front door. The overgrown plants of the garden had withered without the sustenance provided by the malice of the churning fog, leaving the path an easy one. Passing through the iron gate, they followed the overgrown road.

Frisk trudged along. He was too tired to row back and too tired to cast the protection that would keep Sans from killing him in his sleep. He could feel the undead behind him like a dark malignant, their power strong with the rising dark. Sans boney hand landed on his shoulder. Frisk sighed. At least the brother's wouldn't harm the girl. He looked around for a tree he liked. A nice, thick trunked elm beckoned him and he sat under it, closing his eyes.

It would make a nice grave.


	2. Caretaker's Walk

Chapter 2: The Caretaker’s Walk

Frisk woke up to a warm, mid morning sun streaming through the window and bathing his bed in a golden light. The scent of some particularly delicious meal wafted up from the kitchen down stairs.

Wait. 

Bed?

Frisk sat up. He was back in the old Dreemurr house, in the room with the blue quilt covered bed and white painted nightstand. A young man, not much older than him with brown hair and ruddy cheeks, came in the room with a floral tin tray, barn owl teapot, and little owl tea cup.

“Oh hey! You’re awake! That’s good, because another day and we would have been rushing you down the river to Old Home Medical.” 

“How long was I out?” Frisk croaked, throat parched. 

The man set the tray on the nightstand and poured him a cup of golden flower tea before sitting in a rocking chair that’d been placed next to the bed. A small basket with someone’s knitting rested beside the chair. “Two days.”

Frisk took the tea and sipped it. “Thank you.”

“Oh no. Thank you! When you popped the curse, all of us who were stuck in it got a new lease on life!” The man frowned. “Well, those of us who still had bodies.”

Frisk blinked at him. “You’re one of the necromancers we found.”

The man nodded. “Yeah. Specifically the one in the laundry room. That trap on the summer kitchen’s door hit me hard and the only thing I wanted to do was get my clothes cleaned.” He shrugged. “Well, until my soul was sucked into the fog, I wanted my clothes clean. How did you get around the spell?”

Frisk shook his head. “I didn’t. The undead with me snapped me out of it.”

“Good thing that.”

Frisk sighed and nodded. “So you were in the fog? It wasn’t manifested by the girl?”

“Princess Chara? Oh no. That fog was a spell backfire. The lesser nobles who came in here to do the deed? Only one of them knew real necromancy. The rest were play acting and one of those play actors murdered the six tourists who were here and trying to protect the princess. Their souls combined into the fog and anyone else who died in this place was sucked into it too. We found their bodies in the garden once we cleared it out. Avery and Lula are prepping them to be properly buried.”

Frisk held out the cup for another round of tea. “Anyone try a resurrection?”

The man poured. “Yeah. Avery’s one of the old professor types who knows how to pull that off, but after the curse broke, the souls simply moved on.”

“Thank you.” Frisk sipped at the fresh cup. “Any of the lesser nobles get back up?”

The man winced. “No.” He grimaced. “I mean, I went to Bloodworth and I’ve seen some stuff working crime units, but yeah. No. They’re just a mess of random body parts.” He frowned. “Based on what the others said, one of the lesser nobles is missing.”

Frisk’s shoulders sank. “And that’s the one that was a real necromancer.”

“Bingo.”

Frisk sank back against the pillow behind him. “It’d be just my luck if he was alive somewhere and pissed off that I broke his revenge spell.”

The man shrugged. “Well, no one returned from this place after that night fifty years ago and the lesser noble in question hasn’t reappeared meaning he’s either dead or hiding out in another country. I’d place my bets on dead. From what Lula said, the late Asgore the Third was the kind of livid that even people in blind rages feared. Anyone who’d even breathed a word against his baby girl ended up skewered for it. The rumor that he once had a team of assassins on staff turns out to be true.”

Frisk frowned. “And yet, no one has claimed the bounty for Lord Regis Harridon.”

The man stood. “Anyway, your skelebros have been helpful, but they toss back necromantic command like it’s nothing. Her Highness seems to have no problem ordering them around though.”

“I think he knew her in life.”

“He? So those two were one person? That’s a hardcore trick. How’d you pull it off?”

Frisk shook his head. “I didn’t. I found him like that.”

The man nodded. “Well, toilet’s in there.” He pointed to the water closet. “I suggest a shower before coming downstairs. I’m Felix Allerman, by the way.”

“Frisk Evernight.”

“Evernight? Are you related to Allison Evernight? 

He nodded. “I’m her oldest brother.”

“That’s really cool. I’ll see you down stairs.”

Frisk nodded and handed Felix the cup. He stood after the man left and immediately felt the call of nature. After relieving himself, he found his backpack next to the bedroom door and wandered back to the master bedroom and into the master bath. Not really taking the time to look around when he’d seen it earlier, it was now apparent that it, like the ground floor kitchen, had been modernized and made into something like a retreat. Well, moderned by 1960’s standards. A footed bathtub rested by a large picture window, a row of plants on the sill providing privacy while still also providing a view. A pile of baby blue, freshly laundered towels rested on a gilded rack next to the shower stall.

Catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror, he flinched. He’d been stripped down to his undershirt and boxers before being put in bed, and it looked as if someone had tried to clean him up, but he still looked a mess. The chafe marks on his skin from the extended session in the boat didn’t look all that great either next to the day old bruises from being tossed around. 

He dug his toiletries out of his bag along with some fresh clothing, and got to work making himself presentable. A shower and a shave later, he felt more like a human being. After pulling some clean clothes on, he turned to rinse down the shower stall and clean the sink, having been raised on the habit of doing so. 

The rush of necromantic power washed over him and he opened the bathroom door expecting to see Sans or Papyrus.

Princess Chara stood there in an old fashioned, floral, shift dress that hit her at the knees. And seeing her in the light of day made it clear that referring to her as a girl hadn’t been fair in the least. She had to at least have been twenty. Or, at least, twenty when she’d been cursed, the spell having locked her body in an ageless state to torture her till the end of time. The jagged cut he had made to her hair when he’d released her had been carefully evened out into a bob, which curled around perpetually flushed cheeks. The lifted hair revealed a long, smooth neck with only the trace of a silver-white scar where the artery had been sliced open. 

“Hey, Hero. Heard you were up. Thank you for saving me.”

Frisk shook his head. “I wasn’t here to save you. I didn’t know you were still alive until I saw you.”

“But you could have just ended me and that would have lifted the curse as well.”

Frisk huffed, looking away. “Yeah… No. That wasn’t ever going to happen.”

He moved to leave the bathroom and she blocked him, leaning in close. 

“Why did you raise Dr. Gaster from the grave?” She did know him. Hypothesis confirmed. 

“I didn’t. I found him like that.”

Chara bit her lower lip, thinking about that for moment. “Sans said they are bound to you.”

Frisk nodded. “I won their freedom in a gamble and my prize was their undeath being attached to my life. At current, when I die, he dies. I took the job to break your curse in exchange for access to the royal family’s archive. To try and find a way to separate us.”

Chara nodded. “Why were you trying to leave? You led us out of the house and down the road a bit before collapsing.”

“I didn’t think you’d want to be in the house. And I figured Sans and Papyrus wouldn’t hurt you since they’d be dead once they’d done me in.”

The woman blinked at him. “They didn’t attempt to harm you at all. Papyrus picked you up and carried you back. Have they tried before?”

He frowned deeply. “Sans and I have had a few… ‘misunderstandings.’”

She thought about that before turning. “I have something for you to eat in the kitchen.”

“You don’t have to feed me.”

 

Chara looked over her shoulder. “Yes. Yes I do. I owe you that and a lot more.”

“You owe me nothing.”

She pointed toward the center bedroom and the stairs beyond. “To the kitchen, Hero.”

Frisk quickly pulled his hair back into a stubby ponytail before grabbing his bag and following her into the next room. A thought occurred to him and he grabbed her hand. 

“Wait. Do you remember… No. Where you aware of the passage of time under the curse?”

Chara stopped and looked back at him for a moment, the change in the light revealing a line of concealer under her eyes. She squeezed his hand reassuringly before pulling hers away. “From the time Harridon lit the last candle and left to the time you appeared felt like hours, maybe a day.” 

“Oh thank God,” Frisk breathed.

“I still have a lot to catch up on.”

Frisk shook his head. “The culture shock of catching up is way easier to handle than fifty years of tortured existence.” He frowned. “Even so, you should see a counselor about it. That you’re standing here and functional right now is something of a miracle.”

Chara turned, drawing herself up to her full height and for a moment, a woman of noble bearing addressed him. “I am a Dreemurr, Frisk Evernight. I will be functional at the very least until it is safe for me to be otherwise.”

She continued down the stairs, Frisk following behind. All seven of the necromancers sat at the long farm table, while Sans and Papyrus waited in a corner. The lively conversation at the table died when he came in the room and a cheer went up instead. All seven rushed over to hug him or shake his hand.

“Well done, Lad! Well done!”

“Excellent work!”

“You’re a credit to our profession!”

“You gave us a serious scare there, sleeping so long.”

“It would have been a nightmare getting you to the hospital in Old Home!”

Frisk blinked. “Why?”

Felix pointed toward the window. “It’s sunny now, but the monsoon has made it over the ridge. We’ve been hit with some pretty torrential downpours.”

Frisk looked to Chara. “When the rains come, how long do they last?”

“Two weeks. The ridge keeps the worst of it at bay, but now that the clouds have moved in, it will start raining rivers here.” She frowned. “You are not seriously thinking of leaving are you?”

“The sooner I get to the archives, the closer I am to figuring out how to release the brothers.”

Chara nodded. “I’ll go with you.”

Lula, the only female necromancer of the group, in a pair of lacy, blue shorts, and a long matching blouse, gestured to the window. “We’re at the peak of monsoon season, we should all wait.” She pointed to Chara. “And you, Highness, need to wait long enough to be sure that you’ve recovered physically.” She turned to Frisk. “What did you give her?”

“My spider cider.”

It was suddenly quiet enough that a pin drop would echo throughout the kitchen.

Lula blinked. “Well then. Nevermind.”

Chara looked between them. “What’s spider cider?”

“An incredibly potent healing potion. Very expensive and very hard to get,” Lula answered. “How’d you get your hands on any?”

Frisk shook his head. “Pure luck.”

Lula shook her head. “We’ll still need to wait out the rains.”

Chara shook her head as she steered Frisk to a chair and forced him to sit. “No, we won’t. There’s a passage under Mt. Ebott that goes directly to New Home. The monsoon swells the river in the passage, but it won’t be flooded.”

“That’s how the ore veins were found,” Frisk mused. 

Chara nodded as she put a bowl of beef and vegetable stew in front of him. 

Avery, the necromancer who looked more like a university professor than a field researcher, smiled slyly. “I bet it felt good to stiff the lesser nobles on the contract.”

Chara smiled. “It did.” She frowned. “Truth be told, that wasn’t how I made the decision. Everyone, and I mean everyone, was clamoring for that contract. But Crawford and Sons were the only ones to present a plan of how the mining operation would take place. When I asked every person or group for their mining operation plan, they all uniformly said that they would contract with Crawford and Sons to do it for them. Basically, take all the profit while someone else did all the work.”

“So the passage is stable?” Frisk asked.

She pointed at Frisk’s bowl. “Eat.” She addressed the rest of the group. “It’s been fifty years and I’m not sure if it ended up suspended the same way this house was. It takes two days to walk the path straight and there’s a few houses along the path that make up way stations. It’s my job to check them and make sure they’re in working condition, so I’d need to go anyway.”

“*what about the boat, kid?”

Frisk shrugged. “I was forced to buy it, remember?” His shoulders fell with a sigh. “And I am not rowing back to New Home. I intended to walk.”

Sans shook his skull. “*nah. i meant for the river under the mountain. papyrus and i can bring it over the ridge and down to the entrance of the cavern. how big is it, chara?”

Chara turned to the skeleton. “How big is the boat?”

“A LITTLE OVER FIVE FEET WIDE AND SEVEN FEET TALL WITH THE ROOF.”

“That will fit. The entrance into the cavern is much larger. It’ll need to go down some steps.”

“THAT IS NOT A DIFFICULTY.”

Chara raised an eyebrow at them. “Well then?”

Sans rolled the white pinpricks in his eye sockets and sauntered out of the house, followed by Papyrus.

Lula watched the two skeletons leave the house. “Did you know them in life?”

Chara nodded. “Oh yes. And I am not happy about Sans’ attitude.” She placed a hand on Frisk’s shoulder. “Once I’m convinced that you are well enough to leave, we’ll go through the passage.” She looked around to the others. “You are all welcome to come along or stay. If you decide to stay, there are instructions I’ll need to give you for the house. They aren’t very difficult, but the house does require periodic maintenance. The outside needs washed and repainted. And don't care if you have zombies or some other kind of undead do it for you.”

“You aren't bothered at all by necromancy,” Avery observed, stroking his chin. “You even have a touch of the power.”

“My biological father was a necromancer. Even with the adoption, I knew him growing up. He’s my mother’s best friend.”

Frisk ate while the others discussed what they wanted to do. Avery and two others opted to stay until Chara’s return, wanting to use the time to study the curse’s effects on the house and the mountain. Lula, Felix, and the other two opted to wait out the rains to head for their own destinations. Chara brought them a binder with instructions for care of the house and grounds as well as directions to the nearest town. When the brothers had returned with the boat, floating it on waves of blue magic, Chara led them away to place it in the cavern.

She spent the next day preparing to leave and packing things they would need to traverse the passage under the mountain. Frisk followed her instructions for packing, taking the warm, blue and purple striped, wool sweater she offered to help keep the chill of the cavern away, while the brothers watched her intently. 

But at no point did she go to the summer kitchen. She avoided it like the plague, and frowned when asked what she wanted done with it when Avery had finished studying the spellwork. The necromancers decided as a group that they would simply leave it until Chara returned.

The next morning, Frisk, in his sweater despite the heat of summer, Chara, in a green and yellow one, made their way to the cavern’s entrance followed by the brothers. It was a wide entrance with a long set of stone steps descending deep into the mountain. 

Chara pulled out an electric lantern, switching it on. “The steps can be very slippery. Be sure to hold onto the banister.”

After what seemed like an hour, they reached the bottom of the stairs to find the boat carefully tied to a mooring, and a walking path to the left. 

Frisk frowned. “There’s a place for a boat here?”

Chara nodded. “There weren’t any boats when I took over as caretaker, but my predecessor said that when he was young, this passage was well used as a shortcut from New Home to the northern countryside. People just kind of forgot it was here. I suppose now, very few people remember it.”

Frisk held the boat to steady it while Chara climbed in, before doing so himself. He sat down to row as the brothers climbed. 

“Oh no you don’t.” Chara pulled on his collar. “I’m still not convinced you’re well enough for true physical exertion.” She pointed at Sans. “Get us moving.”

“*you’ve gotten real cheeky, kiddo.”

“It’s not cheek. Just severe disappointment.”

Frisk moved to sit next to Chara as Sans summoned an array of glowing bones to paddle the boat. 

She pointed along the left hand side of the tunnel, finger following the walking path. “The passage is wide enough that a small cart or a pack animal can walk along it and once, long caravans would walk through here.”

“How’d they get around each other going one way or another?”

“The caravans used the river to go back and forth, but if they were forced to go on foot, there are several places where the passage opens wide. We’ll come up on the first one pretty quick.” She turned in her seat, looking back at Papyrus. “When you see the floating dock, land us against it.”

Papyrus nodded, steering the boat to rest gently against a dock that floated up and down with the level of water in the cavern. Using her lantern to light the way, Chara nimbly jumped onto the dock and carefully stepped to a wooden plank. Checking it quickly, she was satisfied with the plank’s integrity and walked along it up to a short, concrete pier. 

Frisk followed behind her. “That lantern really puts out the light.”

Chara nodded. “Oh yes. I’m sure there are brighter and better lanterns out now, but this one will do the trick until we get to New Home.”

“So how wide is the cavern here...” 

The words died on his lips as his head fell back to look up at a forest of sentinel pines. Walking further along to reach the passage revealed the remains of a small town that appeared to be covered in snow.

“There are trees down here.”

“Yes.”

“And snow.”

Chara pointed up. “See that mist above us? Those are clouds. The entire cavern has its own distinct weather system. It even rains in the warmer parts.”

“But how do trees grow down here without sunlight?”

Chara walked over to one of the pines, fingers gently brushing against the bark. “These look the same now as they did when I was first made caretaker. Now, assuming that the whole cavern was in a suspended bit of time, that means they still would have had two years of growth. They don’t. I think they’re in the long hibernation that trees enter every winter.” She gestured to the snow. “And this winter is eternal.”

“But how did they get here?”

Chara shrugged. “I haven’t the foggiest.”

“And the houses?”

“This was the town of Snowdin. Come on. I need to check the buildings.”

Frisk followed her through the small town. She had a key for every house and carefully checked the interior and exterior of each one.

“There’s isn’t any decay.”

Frisk nodded. “That’s a good sign that the whole mountain was in a suspended state.”

Chara breathed a sigh. “I hope so. I would really like to avoid arranging to have all of the buildings down here fixed. Getting construction materials and vehicles in here would be a nightmare.” She turned, heading back to the boat. “Are my parents still alive?”

There was a way she said it that made it clear she meant the king and queen.

“Queen Toriel is still alive, but King Asgore passed away fifteen years ago. He abdicated the throne a while before that in order to retire and Asriel is now king.”

“Is Asriel married? Did he have children?”

Frisk nodded. “There was a young widow who only had her title by her marriage and lack of other heirs. He married her with the full intent of pissing off the lesser nobles, though at this point, the lesser nobles don’t really have much claim to anything other than hereditary titles and tabloid fame. Lymphoma took her a few years ago.”

“And children?”

“Two. A boy named James and a daughter named Chara. We’ve long expected Asriel to retire, but, having met him, I think he just can’t bear to stop working.”

Chara sighed, smiling a little. “Oh Azzy.”

“Miss him?”

“I didn’t get to see him or mom and dad after moving to the old house. That was the point, right? The adopted trash wasn’t supposed to be seen again. So for me, it’s been two years since I’ve seen my family.” She paused on the dock, looking at the skeletons. “Well, most of them.”

Frisk looked between the skeletons and her, the memory of the third voice, and Sans careless way of using her name and not her title hit him like a ton of bricks. “Dr. Gaster was your father!”

Chara nodded. She glared at Sans for a moment. “And again, I am disappointed by his apparent sass. You were not sassy in life.”

Sans shrugged. “*you just didn’t get to see it. your mom was pretty amused by my sass.”

She rolled her eyes and sat down next to Frisk. “Take us to the next dock please.” She moved a little closer on the seat to Frisk. “I know a lot has changed since I was cursed. The others said that tvs are now flat and thin, that computers that used to take up entire rooms will now fit neatly on a desk, and telephones are now just pocket computers.”

Frisk nodded. He dug around in his back pocket and pulled out his phone. “There won’t be a cell tower signal down here, so I won’t be able to show some of the cool things it can do, but with it, I can access the internet.”

“Internet?”

“Think of it as all of human history and knowledge bound up in electrical signals and accessible by computer. People use the internet for everything from communication, shopping, research, reading, advertising, politics, and news.”

“*and porn.”

Chara huffed. “Disgusting.”

Frisk’s shoulders dropped as his sigh deflated him. “Yeah. Just like there are bad parts of town, there are bad parts of the internet.” He put the phone away. “Women make up half of the workforce now and are included on unemployment statistics. Commoners control the bulk of the money and business in the country. Pollution problems we had fifty years ago are now cleaned up, but we’ve had more problems worldwide with entrenched ideologies and terrorism. Just after you were cursed, people became obsessed with the idea that their job was their identity, hence so many women entering the workforce. But now, everyone has tied their identity to their own subjective reality, and pointing out objective fact is now considered a personal and hateful attack.”

“So, some things are better, some things are worse, and people are still fighting over worthless things?”

“Yeah.”

Chara thought that over for a bit before pulling her knitting from her bag. The rest of the ride to the next stop was spent with Frisk catching Chara up on history as best he could with Sans and Papyrus filling in as needed. When they reached the next dock, Chara motioned for the brothers to follow her this time.

“We’ll stop here for the night. I know it doesn’t feel like it’s been a day, but it’s late afternoon and the next stop will take us four hours by boat.”

The second dock floated up and down like the first, but instead of a wooden plank, the dock abutted a ramp cut into the rock. Climbing the ramp led to a path covered in glowing blue flowers that connected to the passage. The passage in this area opened into a large gallery of glittering stalactites and tall stalagmites, a few columns having formed here and there. A short walk through an area of beautiful, blue glowing waterfalls found them at a way station of sorts. A tall pink house that had once served as a shop stood next to a tall purple house that once served as an bed and breakfast. A nearby blue house served as a restaurant and even had a baby grand piano for entertainment. 

After carefully checking the buildings and discovering them to be sound, Chara picked out a suite in the bed and breakfast for their room. Though by the way it was set up with extra lamps and amenities, it was the room she prefered to use herself. The brothers chose to roam about the waterfalls a bit while Frisk and Chara sat down to eat dinner.

“So where do you come from?”

Frisk swallowed his food before answering. “I grew up on a farm near Aderon.”

Chara smiled. “The old ruins? Did you ever go?”

Frisk laughed. “Of course! You weren't considered normal if you didn't attempt to sneak off to the ruins and raise some hell as a kid.”

“You’re a farm boy, huh? If you were by the ruins of Aderon I suppose you grew rice.”

Frisk nodded. “That and we raised goats.”

Chara daintily wiped her mouth. “So how was it discovered that you had necromantic ability? You were out in the middle of nowhere. Even with the ruins nearby, I doubt necromancers just came by.”

He let out a long breath. “When I was little, a neighbor’s water buffalo died while in one of the rice paddies. Trying to move a dead one without machinery is almost impossible. So the options where to take a back hoe up to it, which would destroy several paddies, or bring in a crane, which was way out of anyone’s budget. I just went over, patted the big girl on the head, and said we would all really appreciate it if she would walk down the mountain on her own. And she did.”

“How old were you?”

“Eight. So I was just young enough to think asking a dead animal to move would somehow work. Except for me, it really would.”

Chara snorted softly. “So did you always want to be a magic user?”

Frisk wiped his hands on a napkin. “No. I wanted to be a mathematician so I could go into a tech field.” He shrugged. “But I’d been accepted to all three necromancy schools without even applying and got an offer for a free ride in return for interning with a pharmaceutical company.” 

He frowned, thoughts of a life lost to circumstance coming unbidden. He pushed them away and forced a smile. “To be honest, only one of my siblings got to go to school for what they wanted. My youngest sister, Allison, got to go to art school.”

“I take it that was something of a hard sell?”

Frisk nodded. “Dad just couldn’t see how she’d make a living as an artist and this was after he’d paid one a substantial amount of money for new advertising materials and a nicer logo.”

Chara leaned forward, propping an elbow on the table. “So how did she convince him?”

“She planted the rice in the lowest paddies in such a way that as they germinated and grew, they would create several, almost three dimensional, pictures. She advertised them on the internet and people came from all over to see them in person to the tune of 250,000 people. She charged five a head and by the end of one growing season had made a million after taxes.”

Her jaw dropped. “Oh my God…”

“Your royal brother even came to see them.”

“That is insane.”

Frisk shrugged. “After that, she split the money. Half went to my parents for use of the paddies and the other half paid for art school. She works now to promote traditional home arts and folk arts since they’ve been dying off with the rise of technology. But she still goes home every spring to plant a new series of growing, rice art.” Frisk yawned and looked at his phone. “Wow, is it late.”

Chara nodded and stood to clean up. 

“Do you mind if I take a lamp or two for the next room?”

Chara paused. “You’ll sleep in here with me, Hero.”

Frisk looked at the queen sized bed in the next room. “Morals maybe much looser now, but I know that fifty years ago, that would not have been okay.”

Chara’s russet-brown eyes held his steadily. “Fifty years ago, I wasn’t having nightmares about a man stabbing me to death.”


	3. Ch 3: Everything Changes, Everything Stays The Same

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note: I made a cover for this one! You can check out the full size on Deviantart. Go to baaikha dot deviantart dot com.

Chapter 3: Everything Changes, Everything Stays The Same

Frisk woke to whimpering and Chara clutching at him in the dark. He put his arms around her, petting her hair. 

“It's all right. You're safe. It's just a bad dream.”

She let out a shuddering sigh and settled back to sleep, her head resting against his chest. Frisk sighed and looked around for the brothers. Not seeing the glow of their sleepless eye sockets, he relaxed and reached out with his power, feeling for their location. 

Both looked up from their backgammon game in the dark, one room over. 

“*it's still early, kid. go back to sleep.”

He sighed, closing his eyes. When he opened them again, a soft light came from the living room of the suite. A lantern on a timer had begun to glow. Chara continued to lay in his arms, ruby eyes staring at his chest, deep in thought. Noticing that he was awake, she watched his face silently for a few moments before getting out of bed and stretching. 

“How did you sleep the other nights?”

Chara glared at him for a moment before sighing. “I didn't.”

“With all the necromancers in the house, why didn't ask someone for help? Even if no one knew a spell for a peaceful sleep, Lula would have stayed with…” His words trailed off. “You didn't want to appear weak in front of them.” Frisk shook his head. “Why is it okay to be weak in front of me?”

“Because, Hero, you've seen me at my weakest. I don't have to pretend for you.” She looked at her feet for a moment before looking apologetic. “I’m sorry. I didn’t ask if you were free.”

“Free?” A thought of the past hit him and he shook his head. “You mean seeing someone. No.”

She looked up at him through her hair. “There is someone.”

“Was.”

“What happened?”

“Your father.”

“How long ago?”

Frisk resisted the urge to sigh, looking away. “Does it matter?”

She nodded slowly, watching his expression. 

“Two years ago.”

Chara caught the sorrow in his response. “I’ll get breakfast together.”

Not wanting silence, Frisk turned the conversation elsewhere. “Was it weird for you? Going from having things done for you to having to do them yourself?”

Chara cocked her head to one side. “What do you mean? Like laundry and cooking? Asriel and I were expected to live on our own at some point with the palace being the place Azzy would be after he ascended the throne. Home Economics was a part of school.”

Frisk frowned. “Well, there’s two more changes. Home ec has been dropped from most schools and your brother never left the palace.”

She nodded. “I’m sure that, after losing me, they wouldn’t want him out of their sight or protection.” She bit her lip for a moment, confused. “Home ec has been dropped? You said that women make up half the workforce now. Who teaches kids today to do things like cook and sew?”

Frisk shrugged. “No one. That said, there aren’t that many children anymore either. Most couples have one child if that.”

Chara’s jaw dropped. “This is not a large country! A drop below replacement population would make us an easy military target!” She paled at Frisk’s sigh. “How many times has my brother been forced to war?”

“Full scale? Twice. Your nephew, Prince James, served during the second one. Over the last decade, we’ve dealt with border skirmishes and the occasional terrorist attack.”

She sat down on the edge of the bed, staring at her hands in her lap. “You talk about it so calmly. Like it’s not happening here.”

“It’s normal for me. To you, Nisherom is an ally country on our western border, modern and affluent. To me, they are a poor country, radicalized by leaders who took over by coup, seeking to expand their borders with military might and terrorist cells.” Frisk frowned. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

“You didn’t exactly wake up to a better world.”

Chara shook her head. “No. I woke up to one that was exactly the same. The only thing that changed is where the tragedies happen.” She stood. “Breakfast. Do you want coffee or tea?”

“Tea.”

They ate breakfast quietly, and when finished, Frisk helped her wash the dishes, clean the room, and change the sheets on the bed. The brothers waited for them on the dock and they set off down the river.

Chara set her lantern down between them when the boat shoved off. “The next stop is the last one on the river. From there, we’ll be making a steady walk up to the other entrance. Once we get to that side, we won’t need the lanterns. The magma in that part of the cave lights up parts of it and electricity runs from a small power plant on that end.”

“WHY WASN’T THE ELECTRICITY STRUNG THROUGH THE CAVERN?”

She turned in her seat to look at Papyrus as she pulled her knitting out of her bag. “My predecessor said that it was back in the day. But this is a living cavern system, so the lines that weren't made dangerous by the continual damp where eventually just encased in mineral deposits.”

As they floated along, the water underneath them began to glow softly.

Frisk pointed. “Should that be happening?”

Chara nodded, unconcerned. “The plant life in this part of the cavern glows. What you see is just some algae.”

The river let out onto a large, glowing lake with a fairytale castle in the distance. Three, blue domed turrets rose above white washed walls and a massive staircase up to the main gate. It glowed in the phosphorescent light of the cavern’s plant life, looking ethereal and beautiful.

Papyrus pointed across the water. “THE CASTLE IS VERY INTERESTING. IS IT A DISPLAY OR A FULL BUILDING?”

“A full building. My predecessor believed it was built as a pleasure palace or vacation home. There’s an inscription just inside the main gate but it’s in an ancient language and no one who might know what it says was ever interested in coming down to have a look. There are lots of places like that down here. In the forests surrounding Snowdin, there’s a city that reminded me of Angkor Wat the first time I saw it. There are broken temples, forgotten monasteries, strange stone circles, and houses that look more like experiments then actual places to live.”

Chara smiled a little, the movement of her knitting needles pausing for moment. “This place would be amazing to explore as an archeologist.”

Frisk caught the smile. “Is that what you wanted to be when you grew up?”

Chara frowned. “Yes.” She changed the subject and pointed across the water. “The river is that way.”

Papyrus carefully steered the boat while Sans continued to row. As they left the lake behind, the glow of the algae faded, leaving them in the dark again. Rain began to pitter-patter on the roof of the boat. Chara and Frisk moved closer to each other under the roof to avoid getting wet. When the rain passed, an orange glow took the air and another floating dock appeared where the river disappeared into an opening underneath a sheer, rock wall. Papyrus properly moored the boat and they disembarked, climbing a ramp up to a warm plateau. 

A large bridge led off to the left and back into the blue glowing darkness behind them. Ahead was a large, unremarkable, box like building painted a flat gray. Frisk walked over to the railed edge and looked down on the magma flow that lit the entire area. Chara waved for him to follow her and they walked through a set of massive, double doors into the large building. 

Flicking the switch on the lights revealed a warehouse of sorts, though nothing rested on the rows and rows of empty shelves. They walked through the building, following a large, path through the middle of the shelves. Reaching the other end of the building, Chara turned the lights off and immediately stiffened when she heard something clatter.

Flipping the lights back on, she moved to rush back into the building only to have Papyrus wrap his long arms around her and hold her back. 

“Let me go!”

“FRISK AND SANS WILL LOOK.”

“I am not a helpless child!”

Papyrus looked down at her, both eye sockets dark. 

Chara huffed. “Fine.”

Frisk and Sans walked back into the warehouse, eyes and white pinpricks sweeping the area. They searched the rows and rows of shelves, but found nothing. Frowning, Frisk cast a spell to detect life around him. Only Chara glowed in his vision. Sans shrugged at him and they both left the building, turning off the lights again. This time, silence met the darkness. 

Chara led them along a wide, warm passage. The rock wall ran straight up from the passage on the right, while it dropped off on the left down to magma far below. A wall of stone edged the left side, making the way both straight and safe for travelers. The heat rising, Chara and Frisk pulled off their sweaters, Frisk stowing his in his backpack, while Chara tied hers around her waist. A gentle incline in the path led them upwards.

Ahead, a tall portcullis carved from the stone of the cave marked the end of the magma flow area, and they walked into a cooler part of the cavern. Here, white lights were strung along the cavern walls on either side, making the area appear to be a man made tunnel instead of a natural formation from magma passage. Carvings decorated the walls: massive, animal human hybrids that went from floor to ceiling. 

Chara stopped in front of one that appeared to be a goat headed man: tall, powerful, and adorned with a crown. “My predecessor said that these are all based on ancient myths where humans descended from these hybrid beings. That the Dreemurr right of kingship descended from these goat kings.”

Sans snorted. “*ol’ asgore was as stubborn as a goat, that’s for sure!”

“Don’t speak about him like that,” Chara hissed, rounding on Sans.

Sans reached out and patted her shoulder. “*take it easy, chara. that was a compliment. that same stubbornness meant that he let me hang around after… well, you know.”

Frisk looked to Chara and she rolled her eyes.

“The only time he ever got drunk led to me.” She sighed. “Anyway. We’re all supposed to be related to these mythical beasts.”

Frisk stopped and looked at a carving of a spider woman who appeared to be laughing as she danced. “Yeah… Related…”

Another portcullis greeted them, marking the end of the tunnel, and opening into a huge gallery. They stepped out of the mouth of the tunnel and onto a bridge over a long abandoned city. Buildings rose up to the ceiling of the cavern, and seemed to go forever into the distance. 

Frisk and the brothers stood there with their mouths hanging open. 

“We’re not checking all of those buildings are we?”

Chara chuckled, shaking her head. “Only the one at the very end of the cavern on the surface of the mountain. It’s a nice little house. We’ll be able to stay there for the night and get cleaned up before heading into New Home.”

“EXACTLY HOW IS ONE PERSON SUPPOSED TO CARE FOR EVERYTHING FOUND UNDER THE MOUNTAIN?”

Chara shrugged. “Fifty years ago, most people didn’t know or care about the passage and it wasn’t like funds were going to be allocated to it. I was attempting to get it listed as a world heritage site but… well, you know.”

The bridge let off at a path that sloped gently upwards for a good mile before evening out. Here, the cavern appeared as a cavern again and the interior had been lit with an eye toward highlighting the natural beauty of the cave. With this in mind, metal railings lined either side to keep curious hands from being able to reach the formations. A ‘frozen’ waterfall ‘crashed’ to the right. Cave bacon draped from the ceiling with a gold and red striped glow. Frostwork ‘bushes’ of aragonite and opal stuck out like needles along the left wall. 

Eventually the cave walls were obscured with brick as they entered the remains of what must have been a large staging area for caravans. An area that once supported a gate stood open and they passed into the the light of a warm evening on the other side of the mountain. The road they stood on, while paved, was cracked. Wild flowers and persistent trees had broken it into pieces. Walking a little bit down the road, the treeline fell away to reveal the skyline of New Home. 

Chara stopped dead in her tracks, staring at the towering skyscrapers of the city and the rows of resort hotels, obscuring the view of the ocean. She closed her eyes for a moment, letting her chin drop to her chest. Sans nudged Frisk with one boney elbow, nodding toward Chara. Frisk shook his head at the skeleton, but put his arms around Chara, hugging her close. 

“It’s so different… You can’t see the ocean anymore… Even the palace is hidden behind so many buildings…” She turned her head against Frisk’s chest and held onto him tightly, but refused to cry, using her breath to steady herself and keep tears from spilling. After a few minutes, she took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Stepping back, she nodded, mostly to herself. “The house is just a little further.”

The house appeared to be a duplicate of the one on the other side of the mountain on the outside at least, but this one was painted blue. Everything inside the house was covered with a sheet to keep dust at bay. As Chara checked the house, going through a long memorized set of motions, Frisk worked on getting dinner ready in the ground floor kitchen. Satisfied that the house was in good shape, Chara sat down at the table just as Frisk finished heating their lentil soup over crusty bread.

Chara poked at her bowl listlessly. “Everything seems like it was just as suspended as the rest of the mountain.”

“Doesn’t that make things easier for you?”

“I suppose.”

Frisk poked at his bowl with his spoon. “You’ll see your brother tomorrow.”

Chara smiled a little. “Yeah. I guess I will.” Her smile fell. “I hope that, it won’t be reopening a long healed wound.”

Frisk took her hand in his, squeezing her fingers gently. “He’s the one who kept sending necromancers to end the curse. He never forgot you. He asked me to return with your body so you could be properly buried.”

“It’s a good thing I decided to come with you, huh?”

He snorted. “I’m not sure I could keep you away.”

Chara smiled and opened her bag, pulling out her knitting. She carefully bound off the long, red scarf she’d been working on during the journey. She stood, walking over to Papyrus. “Come here.” When Papyrus bent down, she wrapped the scarf around his neck. “There you go. You were looking a little naked without one.”

He smiled, his skeletal hand gently touching the red yarn. ‘I SUPPOSE I WAS MISSING MY SCARF.”

Frisk looked over Papyrus appreciatively. “Huh. When I think about it, every photo of you in life you were wearing a red scarf.”

He smiled, gently resting a boney hand on his daughter's head. “AND NOW YOU KNOW WHY.”

“*hey! what about me?”

Chara gave Sans something of a mock glare before leaning over and kissing the side of his skull. 

Frisk shared a bed with her again that night, Chara waking him with fearful whimpers. He held her, pet her hair, and told her she was safe. And just like the night before, he reached out to find the location of the brothers. 

Sans and Papyrus were not in the house. 

Frisk sat up, reaching out far and found a trace of them back in the cavern. Both brothers paused and looked up.

“WE WILL BE BACK BY MORNING.”

“There was something in the warehouse,” he whispered.

“*ya cast the wrong spell, bud.”

“Fuck.” Frisk moved to get out of bed only to have Chara clutch him tighter.

“*stay with chara. we’ll call if we need ya.”

Frisk sighed and laid back down. Chara yanked on him in her sleep, clutching at his shirt. Turning on his side, he held her against his chest and willed himself calm, focusing on his breathing. Feeling him settle, Chara’s breathing grew long and deep, body relaxing. When morning broke, Frisk got out of bed to meet the brothers on the front porch. 

“Well?”

Sans shrugged. “*it was nothing. we were just making sure.”

Frisk rolled his eyes. “You had me up all night worrying. Don’t run off again.”

“I APOLOGIZE.”

Frisk and Chara made themselves presentable: Frisk in a dark suit stored away in a spell and Chara in a green dress with a black lace jacket stored in a wardrobe in the house. After Chara forced Sans into a suit, Papyrus not needing to even be asked, the four walked to the edge of New Home. Finally having phone service again, Frisk called for a taxi to drive them through the city, and they got inside just in time to avoid being drenched in the next downpour. Chara stared out the window, frowning at the LED lighted signs and heavy traffic.

Frisk reached over and took her hand. “It’s a lot, huh?”

She nodded. “It’s Saturday, right? I remember these streets being empty but for foot traffic on Saturdays. Businesses were always closed until the evening. It’s when you spent time with your family. Looking around, I don’t really see any families.” She pointed. “That woman is pushing around a dog in a baby stroller.”

“People do that now. They call them ‘fur babies.’”

Chara raised an eyebrow. “That only makes it worse.”

 

The taxi let them off at the royal gardens just as the rain let up, and they walked through the rows of flowers and ornamental trees to the palace gates. The full flush of summer had taken over, turning trees a dark and vibrant green. Flowers erupted everywhere in a choreographed wave of colors and shapes. They walked past a shaded playground with the best in climbing towers, slides, and jungle gyms. Empty swings swayed in the light breeze.

Chara frowned. “There really aren’t any children, are there? This place has certainly seen an upgrade since Azzy and I played here, but... “ She snorted. “The dog park over there is busy.”

“Your Highness?”

Chara shook her head, waving him off. “I don’t understand. I went to the other side of the mountain knowing that marriage and children were never going to happen no matter how much I wanted it. And these idiots just throw the opportunity away?”

Frisk sighed. “It’s just that we’re in the city. People still get married and have children in the country.” He took her hand again. “Come on. Your brother is this way.”

The palace in New Home stood four stories tall and took up an entire city block in length. The white exterior was trimmed in a blue to match the sky above. Crowds of tourists gathered around the circular fountain that took up the center of the plaza, cooling off in the spray as the heat of the day rose. Frisk bypassed the tourist entrance and stopped at the guard station located further down the gate. He handed the sentry a set of papers.

The man looked them over and nodded to himself before calling for another guard. “Take these four to see His Majesty’s secretary.”

Frisk frowned. “The secretary? Is something wrong with His Majesty?”

The guard frowned. “He’s very ill. The Queen Mother even came back from her summer home to stay with him.”

Chara quickly grabbed Frisk’s hand, eyes filled with fear.

Frisk squeezed her hand. “It’s okay. Come on.”

They were led through the large, white double door, main entrance, and taken off the tourist path to a set of offices in a red carpeted hallway along the first floor. Windows of stained glass filled the hallway with a rainbow of colored light where it hit the white washed walls and office doors. The guard stopped in front of a door with a brass plaque labelled Secretary to the King, and knocked once before opening the door.

The office interior sported a rich, dark green carpet and dark wood panelled walls. Very old fashioned, dark wood desk and furniture filled the room. Candid photos of the royal family and what appeared to be the family of the secretary graced the walls around a painted seascape.

“The necromancer Frisk Evernight and his companions.”

 

Secretary Gerald Evans, a balding, middle aged man who hadn’t let his age or profession contribute to his waistline looked up. “Evernight? You’re back far earlier than expected.”

“There’s a passage under Mt. Ebott. We came back that way.”

Evans blinked at him. “You broke the curse?”

Frisk nodded.

“And the body of Princess Chara?”

Frisk gestured to her. 

Evans snorted. “Oh come on! You expect me to believe that this woman is Chara Dreemurr? If she was alive, she’d be in her seventies. If this woman is a day over twenty, I’ll eat my hat!”

Chara glared at him. “Do you know what a Dreemurr locket is?”

“Of course. It’s a magical, heart shaped locket that every member of the Dreemurr family possesses. It’s proof of their kinship and turns to dust when that family member dies.”

Chara lifted a gold filagree, heart shaped locket from under blouse and held it out. 

Evans stumbled in his hurry to stand, using the desk to prop himself up. “Oh my God.”

“Take me to see my brother. Now.”


	4. Inadequate Compensation

Chapter 4: Inadequate Compensation

Evans all but ran up the stairs, Frisk and Chara hot on his heels. Rounding a corner the secretary came to a full halt and took a deep breath, adjusting his suit. Walking quietly, he went up to the double doors of the King’s Room, a master suite that took up an entire wing on the second floor of the palace. He knocked and a young woman in a dark dress with the yellow blonde hair, blue eyes, and straight nose of the Dreemurr royal family opened the door softly. A golden, filigree locket swung from her neck.

“Do you need something Gerald?”

Evans reached back, motioning Chara forward. “She needs to see His Majesty right now.”

The woman shook her head. “Grandpa is dying. He should just be with family.”

Evans took her hands. “Emily, this is your Great Aunt Chara.”

Emily looked at Chara for a moment and then back at Evans. “That’s not possible…”

Chara held out her locket and Emily froze for a moment. The woman reached out, fingers almost touching the small heart, before pulling back. She grabbed Chara’s hand and dragged her into the room. Walking quickly, she led Chara through the living room, office space, and library of the suite to a large bedroom taken up by an overly large bed. Family members young and old, mostly blonde haired and blue eyed, sat or stood around the bed.

Emily pushed her way through the crowd, shouldering siblings, cousins, aunts, and uncles out of the way. 

“Emily! What are you doing?” someone whispered. 

She paid it no mind. “Just move it already!”

Chara pulled her hand from Emily’s and moved up to the bed. Asriel, his face wrinkled under his thick, but white pale beard, slept in the middle, one hand resting on his chest. A middle aged woman sat on the bed next to him, holding his other hand. She looked up at Chara, shocked at the rude intrusion, only to have her jaw fall open as she stared. Chara blinked and turned her head. On the wall behind her hung a very large portrait of her and Asriel, a painting of a photo taken just before she'd gone to the mountain.

Chara sat down on the bed, taking the hand that lay on Asriel’s chest. “Hey, Azzy. I’m home.”

Asriel’s pale blue eyes opened. He reached up, cupping Chara’s face in both hands. “Chara!”

She leaned in, placing her forehead gently against his, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“You’re here!” He took a deep breath. “You came home.” His eyes closed and his head lifted just enough to kiss her before settling back, holding her hand tightly as he fell back into a deep sleep.

Queen Toriel, long aged and white haired, came into the room, using a cane and the strong arm of her grandson James to steady her steps. She saw Chara and her cane clattered to the floor. Jerking away from her grandson, she reached for the bedpost and practically threw herself at Chara. Not letting go of Asriel’s hand, Chara put her other arm around her mother, holding Toriel tightly. After several minutes of kissing her baby girl’s face, the Queen Mother sniffed, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. They held onto each other, Asriel’s hand held between them until he sighed in his sleep. 

A faint smile touched the old king’s lips. “Chara… you came home.” 

The heart locket on his chest turned to dust.

A few hours later found Chara sitting with her mother on a plush couch in the living room of the king’s suite. Papyrus sat next to the queen, while Sans sat on the floor, leaning against her leg a little. While Papyrus maintained being proper, Sans smiled like a fat, satisfied cat. The Queen’s hand, wrinkled and old, would occasionally reach down to pat him on the top of his skull. Frisk sat across from the lot, sighing at Sans.

Emily came in the room with a silvered tea set. She set it down on the glass topped coffee table and began to pour a cup for Chara. “I guess you made it in time.”

Chara frowned. “No. I’m fifty years too late.” She looked at the teacup in the shape of a lizard’s head. “This was one of dad’s favorites.” She took a sip and nearly sputtered. “Hot chocolate?”

Toriel snorted. “What? Did you really think I would forget that my daughter was a chocolate fiend?”

Chara took a deep breath, sniffing the heavy aroma, and stilled herself to avoid a sob. She changed the subject. “The secretary called me ‘Princess Chara.’ When did that happen? The lesser nobles fought him tooth and nail about my having anything that might be construed as a title.”

“After the…” Toriel sighed and shook her head. “Anyone who argued ended up on the end of a trident, and that’s if they were lucky.” She looked to Frisk. “Thank you for bringing my daughter home. I had hoped that, when my son sent you, that you could at least put her to rest. I never imagined that she might be alive and whole.”

Frisk grimaced.

Toriel waved him off. “I understand that when you found her, she was alive, but not exactly whole.” She reached over, petting Chara’s hair.

Chara sipped her cocoa. “I guess that means you get access to the archive now.”

“*it’s not that important.”

Frisk’s jaw dropped as he stared at Sans. “Really? What changed?”

“*hey now! i have fifty two years of catching up to do now that i have tori to myself.” He patted the queen’s knee but those white, pinprick eyes slid over to look at Chara. 

Chara groaned. “Was he always like that?”

Toriel smiled. “Only in private, My Child.”

“*yeah. but now that doesn’t matter so much anymore.”

She swatted at him. “You hound.”

 

Emily poured hot chocolate for herself. “I’m missing some part of this conversation.”

Frisk eyed the brothers. “Yeah. Me too.”

Toriel and Sans chuckled. Even Papyrus snorted.

Chara rolled her eyes. “She’s my biological mother.”

Emily’s jaw dropped and then she burst out laughing. “Oh my God! That’s what grandpa meant when he insisted we always referred to you as a blood relation. You are!”

Frisk blinked. “Pardon my rudeness for asking so plainly, but how did you pull off that kind of deception?”

Toriel set her teacup down. “I was sure that Chara was Asgore’s child. It had been a singular indiscretion on my part--”

 

“*DO NOT GO TAKING THE BLAME FOR ALL OF IT, TORI. IT TOOK BOTH OF US.”

She swatted at Papyrus. “Quiet, Dings. I’m telling the story. In those days, a man was not expected to help his wife give birth and Chara was very obviously not Asgore’s child. Nor could I pass her as simply resembling my family. Not when she so clearly had her father's ruby eyes. So it was announced that the child had passed just after birth.”

She sighed. “I learned later that Gorey knew the truth and while he’d been angry about that night, he loved Chara so dearly.” She reached over again, petting her daughter’s head. “I just don't know how he found out.”

“*i told him.”

Toriel’s jaw dropped. “You what?!”

“ASGORE WAS MY BEST FRIEND. I WAS NOT GOING TO LIE TO HIM.”

Sans shifted against her leg. “*i begged him to take chara. exile me, imprison me, execute me. just keep my little girl.”

Papyrus smiled at his daughter. “I NEEDN'T HAVE WORRIED. HE WAS SMITTEN WITH HER THE MOMENT HE LAID EYES ON HER.”

James, a middle aged man of blonde hair, blue eyes, and the spitting image of his father came in and leaned over the couch to kiss Toriel’s cheek. “Hey Grandma. The undertakers have finished moving Dad. Chara is already organizing the staff for a state funeral.

Chara blinked at him. “Chara?”

He nodded. “When I say that your loss made an impression on the family, it’s an understatement. If you gathered all the Dreemurrs together in one room and tossed a rock, you have a fifty percent chance of hitting someone named Chara. In fact, Chara is a popular name in general. Lots of girls and a few boys were christened Chara to spite the lesser nobility.”

 

She looked down at the cup in her hands, unsure how to process that.

“Anyway, I’ve opened up your old bedroom. Grandpa closed it up and only opened it on your birthday to leave presents for you. Dad did the same thing after Grandpa passed, so you have a bunch of packages to open.”

Chara looked at her mother. “Didn’t you think I was dead?”

Toriel smiled sadly. “It was believed that the fog around the mountain was your vengeful spirit. No one was aware that anyone else had been at the house the day Harridon showed up with his cronies. The hope that you might have been alive kept your father going for a long time. And Asriel never gave up hope that you were simply trapped and he had no way to get to you.”

 

James took the cup of cocoa his daughter offered him. “Provisions were made for you in Grandpa’s and Dad’s wills. They both assumed you would come home someday and wanted to be sure you were cared for.” 

Chara stared at her cup again, lost in thought.

Papyrus frowned. “DOES IT UPSET YOU THAT THEY THOUGHT OF YOU SO LONG PAST REASON?”

She shook her head. “No. Of course not. It’s just, I went to the mountain expecting to be forgotten. A political inconvenience that had the decency to disappear. But none of you are unhappy that I’m here. It’s as if those days never existed.”

James smiled. “I will admit that it is strange having an aunt who appears to be younger than I, but…” He shrugged. “Dad got his dying wish, my grandmother has been reunited with her lost daughter and an old friend, and I don’t have to worry about a cursed mountain that no one wants to go to anymore. I can deal with a little strangeness.”

“*so what did asgore and asriel leave chara?”

Toriel smiled. “Gorey left her Mt. Ebott and Nariellia the Third’s ruby tiara and jewelry.”

“He gave me land and part of the crown jewels?!”

Emily smiled. “And every Chara in the family has worn that tiara at least once!” She snorted. “Well, the most recent of them hasn’t. She’s still a toddler.”

James picked up where his grandmother left off. “Dad left you a monthly stipend, the land from the mountain up to the Nameless River, and all tax income from that land.” 

Chara blinked. “A stipend and tax income?” She shook her head. “I wouldn’t even know what to do with the money.”

James shrugged. “Think of it as a raise.”

“A raise?”

“A raise to your salary for being the caretaker.”

Chara shook her head again. “The caretaker of the old house doesn’t receive a salary or any compensation. I got to live in the house and have access to a fund that pays for food and necessary repairs, but that’s it. I received four days off every three months and that time was to be used to travel the passage under the mountain and be sure it was properly maintained.”

Toriel’s jaw dropped. “There is no way Gorey did that to you…”

“The old house fell under Lord Ephram’s domain and he set the terms for its care. Though I suppose it’s now under the Crown since Ephram was one of the people who showed up to murder me.”

James nodded. “It is. I wasn’t aware that those were the circumstances before the house returned to the Crown, but the caretaker of the old house and Mt. Ebott received a salary of six thousand dollars a year fifty years ago. With steady increases every year and inflation, it’s now seventy-two thousand a year.”

“That’s insane… And Azzy gave me a stipend on top of that?”

“Dad was very clear to both my sister and I, and in his will, that if you should ever come home, you would be cared for, for the rest of your life.”

Toriel patted Sans’ head and Papyrus’ arm. “Help me up you two. I’ve been waiting to see my daughter open all of those presents.”

That ethereal third voice flowed from both of them. “*YEs, Ma’Am.” Both stood, stretching the same way, before helping the Queen Mother to her feet.

“Come along, My Child.”

Chara stood as Gerald Evans came into the room. 

“Mr. Evernight? Her Royal Highness, Princess Chara, wishes to speak with you.”

Frisk nodded and followed the secretary out of the King’s Suite and back down to the offices. Evans knocked on one of those white doors before opening it. The white painted walls were cast an interesting blue from the dark navy carpeting and dark wood desk. Behind it was the blonde haired woman who’d been sitting on the bed, holding the King’s hand when Chara had arrived.

“Frisk Evernight, Madam.”

“Thank you, Gerald. Would you like the rest of the day, or even the week, off?”

“If I could have some time with him at the family viewing tomorrow, Chara, I’d much appreciate it. I’ll take a few days after the funeral.” 

“Absolutely.”

Evans bowed his head and left the room.

Princess Chara gestured to the open chairs in front of the desk. “Have a seat, Mr. Evernight. There is the matter of your compensation for breaking the curse and bringing my aunt home. I understand that my father promised you access to the royal archives.”

Frisk sighed. “Yes. And I understand that you are not bound to any promise he might have made to some commoner.”

“Some commoner? You are not ‘some commoner.’ I’ve done quite a bit of research on you and your family. You’re the older brother of famed artist Allison Evernight. You graduated first in your class at Nightfall Academy, and are considered to be the most promising necromancer of the age. And then, two years ago you left a lucrative pharmaceutical career, as well as a long time love interest, to take up rather dangerous fieldwork. Often without any benefit to yourself.”

“That would be because your royal aunt’s biological father is stuck to me as undead.” He held up a hand. “No. I didn’t raise him. In a gamble to free Sans and Papyrus, they ended up stuck to me in a permanent way.”

“So you’ve been looking for a way to separate Dr. Gaster from yourself?” She eyed the paper in her hands. “That makes sense regarding these reports.” She read down a list of jobs he’d been denied payment for, payment that could have gained him a way to separate the brothers from himself. “Removing ghouls from Emmitstown. Destroying a vampire and his minions in Oswain. Laying a banshee to rest in Rainier. The list goes on and on.” 

Frisk groaned. “Will you just hurry up and tell me that any compensation I might be owed is denied?”

Princess Chara laid the paper down. “Why would I do that?”

Frisk shook his head. “Because that’s where these conversations go. I’ve had enough of them to know that someone is waiting outside the door to kick me out.” He sighed. “Dr. Gaster wants to spend time with his daughter, and I’m sure she’s going to ask me to escort her back to the old house. Running me off would make it really hard for either of those things to happen, and I go back to having an angry pair of powerful undead making me miserable. So let’s just pretend that I was paid something agreeable to all parties and I will disappear before anyone can make an issue of it.”

The woman stared at him, slack jawed for a moment before regaining her composure. “My father’s agreement with you stipulates access to the royal archives. It also stipulates that, should you release the curse and return my aunt, you are to receive three times the amount owed from all the contract work you have taken but were not compensated for as well as the offer of Dr. W. D. Gaster’s office of Royal Wizard.”

“He what?!” Frisk shook his head. “Again, I understand that you are under no obligation to honor any of that.”

“We are honoring it.”

Frisk paused for a moment. “Why would you do that?”

“Besides it being a personal matter for my royal brother and I, it is politically advantageous. We’ve had quite a bit of trouble with local mayors and small lords engaging in double dealings like the situations you have faced when acting in good faith. To be in a position where someone they have thoroughly mistreated is now above them in station is enough to pull the majority back in line.”

She stood and walked over to a side table, pouring two cups of tea. “My father was a very good judge of character. That he would place the offer for a long unheld position in your contract after meeting you once is a not something I will simply dismiss.” She handed him a cup. “I do not expect a decision about the offer to Royal Wizard anytime soon. Taking it will not require you to live here at the palace, but it will entail specific responsibilities, and net you quite a few benefits. I will have the papers delivered to your room.”

“My room?”

Princess Chara leaned back against her desk, the hem of her black dress fluttering around her ankles. “You will be housed in the guest wing unless you’d rather stay off the palace grounds. But Papyrus mentioned that it might not be wise to have you far from my aunt. Would you care to explain why?”

“Her Highness has had nightmares every night since being released from the curse.”

“Have you been giving her something for them?”

Frisk shook his head. “No. Just comforting her.” He blanched at his own words. “I don’t mean that in any way that is less than honorable.”

“I’m holding you to that.”

After a pleasant cup of tea, one of the cleaning staff was happy to show Frisk to Chara’s room. He found the door wide open. Chara sat alone on a couch staring at a large pile of gifts, only a quarter of which had been opened. Frisk sat down next to her, both a bit shell shocked. 

He looked to her, eyes still just a bit wide. “Are you all right?”

Chara continued to stare at the mound of presents on the table in front of her. “I think I’m now one of the wealthiest women in the country.” She looked at him. “How about you?”

“I’m actually getting paid for breaking your curse. And I was offered the position of Royal Wizard.”

“Woah.”

“Yeah.”

They both sat back on the couch, and stared out across the room. 

Chara broke the silence first. “It’s too much. I want to go home, but I don’t know where home is anymore. I thought it was here, but… nothing is like I remember it. I thought I’d be ignored at best, but everyone seems genuinely happy to have me here.” She sighed and looked at her hands. “Everyone here is living in a world in which my absence was made to be keenly felt and I’m still stuck in a place where my absence was most desired.”

“So what do you want to do?”

Chara shook her head. “I don’t know. I should go back to the old house after the funeral. There are things that need to be done at the house and I don’t want to leave everyone there for too long.”

“What about your mother? Don’t you want to spend more time with her?”

“I…” She covered her mouth to muffle a sob. “I don’t know what I… I just… I just want to see Azzy and Dad!” Her hand moved to her eyes and she wept.

Frisk put his arms around her and held her close.


	5. The Identity Of Memory

5 The Identity Of Memory

 

The tiniest of trembles against that part of him that was touched by undeath roused Frisk from sleep. He woke to find Chara in his bed, shaking in terror, clutching at him as she whimpered. Frisk wrapped his arms around her.

He whispered against her hair, “It’s all right. It’s over. You’re safe.”

Chara clung to him tightly, unwilling to let go, unwilling to relax.

Frisk gently smoothed out her hair with one hand. “I’m sorry you had to come and find me. I didn’t leave. I was just in another room. I’ll stay with you as long as you want me.”

She sighed heavily, relaxing deep into a peaceful sleep. Frisk closed his eyes and searched along the link for the brothers. They were very far away. Under the mountain far away.

His eyes snapped open. “Where the hell are you two?!” he hissed.

Rather than feeling present on the link when answering him, they felt very distant, as if they spoke to him through a thick glass and everything was distorted.

“*it’s fine…... just... some rest.”

“BACK BY……. SEE…..SOON.”

One of Chara’s hands had slid up under his shirt to rest on his skin. Frisk relaxed, pulling her hand out from under his shirt and holding it in his. He’d just give the brothers a tongue lashing for roaming about without informing him in the morning.

They didn’t return.

He sat on the edge of the bed, morning light streaming across the quilt and reached with his power, feeling for them along their link.

Nothing.

Frisk grabbed his things, quickly getting dressed.

Chara yawned as she sat up. “What’s going on?”

“Sans and Papyrus are gone and I can’t feel them.”

Chara was immediately up. “Do you know where they went?”

“Back to the warehouse in the passage.”

Chara froze. “There was something there.”

Frisk frowned and tied his shoes. “Sans said they didn’t find anything the first time they went, but also said that I cast the wrong spell.” Frisk groaned. “I should have been looking for undead.”

“It’ll still take us half a day to walk there.”

Frisk slipped his backpack on. “I’m teleporting down.”

She grabbed his arm. “You are not going anywhere without me.”

He turned. “I’m not letting you walk into danger.”

“You don’t get to decide that.”

“Your Highness--”

She grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked him down so they were eye to eye. “Chara! My name is Chara! You’ve avoided using my name and I won’t have it any longer!”

Frisk’s glare did nothing to make her back down. When he sighed and looked away, she let go of him.

“Why won’t you use my name?”

The forlorn expression in his eyes melted her anger. 

“Oh.” Chara sighed, pushing her hair back behind her ear. “We’ll talk about that later. Right now, we need to find Sans and Papyrus.” She placed a finger on his lips. “I’m coming. No arguments. You leave without me and I swear you’ll regret it when I next see you.”

Frisk pushed her towards the door. “Just hurry and get dressed. I’ll be up at your room in a minute. Pack very lightly. It’ll make the teleport spell easier.”

Chara eyed him for a moment before making a dash from the room. Frisk lifted his hands to cast the teleport only to let them drop to his sides with a huff. He made the bed and washed up quickly before heading over to Chara’s room. 

The Queen Mother watched her daughter pack a small backpack with growing distress. “My Child! Where are you going?”

“My father is missing. Frisk and I are going to find him.”

“Just stay, My Child. Let Frisk handle it.”

Frisk crossed his arms over his chest as he entered the room. “Exactly. Let me handle it.”

Toriel took Chara’s hands in hers. “I just got you back! Don’t leave me again!”

Chara laid a hand on the side of her mother’s face. “I will come back. I promise.” She stood next to Frisk. “I’m ready.”

Frisk whispered, “Please stay.”

She shook her head vehemently. “Do not ask again.”

He raised his hands and cast. The world around them appeared to shatter and fall like the pieces of a stained glass window, only to stop mid fall and fly back into place. When the world reassembled itself, they stood outside the warehouse in the warm orange glow of the cavern. Chara ran for the door, only to have Frisk grab her arm and pull her back.

“This is my specialty. Let me take the lead.”

She nodded, letting him go first. 

He checked the door to make sure it wasn’t trapped before heading inside. The lights inside were on but several of them had been busted, littering glass and ominous shadows across the floor. One of the working lights flickered to the left. Frisk let out a long breath and watched it fog and curl in the air over his head. The warehouse was freezing cold. It'd been pleasantly warm before.

Frisk leaned down a bit to whisper in Chara’s ear. “You look right and I’ll look left. If you see something, pull on my sleeve.”

She nodded and they slowly moved through the warehouse to the other end, seeing nothing. Chara looked up at him once they reached the other side, biting at her bottom lip to keep from speaking. Frisk took a deep breath and relaxed, feeling for the brothers. The link between them was still incredibly distant. It was also under their feet.

“Is there a basement level to the warehouse?” Frisk asked, voice barely a whisper.

Chara turned her head so that her mouth was at his ear. “Not that I know of.”

“We’ll look for a door.”

They searched along the walls of the building, looking for a set of stairs and found a hidden elevator around a corner near a set of restrooms.

Chara frowned at the elevator. “I don’t trust it.”

“Me either. We’ll find the stairs.” 

They completed a circuit of the walls and found another door hidden behind a set of broken shelves. It opened into an inky black stairwell with a red glowing light emanating from the bottom. Frisk stepped in first and both descended slowly and carefully to the bottom, careful not to make sound on the metal steps. A metal door and a naked, red light bulb greeted them at the bottom. Down here, the feeling of the skeleton brothers being far away, lessened. 

Frisk checked the door before opening it to a room full of fans blowing a harsh wind through a long hallway. The deafening noise shook them both and Frisk took Chara’s hand, running her through the hall as fast as he could. A doorway appeared to the right and Frisk took it, pulling Chara out of the clamor of the fans. They entered a room filled with rows of bunk beds lit by a single, harsh, white light in the middle of the room over the beds.

“I wonder if this place was more of a waystation than I knew,” Chara whispered. 

Frisk pointed at the floor and the grooves in the tile. “It looks like something has been repeatedly drug through here.”

“Follow it?”

He nodded and they quietly stepped around the beds only to hear a loud, pained moan. Frisk pulled Chara behind him and hid against one of the bunks. Sliding across the floor toward them was a mass of writhing flesh. At various points, skeletal arms, spines, and skulls pushed against the flesh as if trying to escape. It scraped along the floor in the path of the grooves, groaning and reaching.

Frisk’s eyes narrowed, watching the thing. “Well, we now know what happened to the missing pieces of the lesser nobles. But how did they end up like this?” 

The thing froze in place and one of the skulls pressed against its fleshy bonds, turning toward them.

Frisk swore under his breath and pulled Chara as he ran for it. “Dammit! It knows we’re here! Come on!”

The thing screeched and crashed against the bunk, looking to knock it over, and trap them underneath it. Chara and Frisk dive rolled across the mattress of the next bed. Scrambling to their feet, they both dashed through the rows of bunks away from amalgam undead. Another bed crashed to the floor in front of them, blocking the way. 

Chara turned, pulling Frisk behind her as she ran back for the hallway and the fans. 

“No! We won’t be able to hear it coming!”

Chara ignored him and they went through the door, turning left and continuing down the hall. An open doorway loomed ahead and they dashed through it. Jumping to a halt, Chara turned and looked back at the hall.

She breathed a sigh of relief. “It didn’t follow. Good.”

“You didn’t know that it wouldn’t!”

Chara took a few breaths, bringing herself down from the adrenaline rush. “That thing made the grooves in the floor. They didn’t go anywhere near the door, so I figured the fans were too loud for it.” She shook her head. “Besides that room was huge with at least fifty bunks and--” 

Something caught her eye and she grabbed his shoulders to spin him around. “What is that?!”

Behind them stood a laboratory of some kind, a place that was old even before Chara had become the caretaker. Frisk stared at counters full of dusty equipment: microscopes, beakers, bunsen burners, calculators, and a very large bank of computer servers, the old kind that took up a room to handle what now went on a typical phone. His eyes eventually came to rest on what Chara was talking about. 

It appeared to be a huge, metal, animal skull hanging in the air by multiple thick wires above a circular opening in the floor. Two plexiglass bubbles covered the eye sockets and something appeared to be moving inside them.

Frisk took her hand. “Come on.”

They ran up to the massive machine and found the brothers shoved inside it. Sans saw them and pounded on the plexiglass.

Frisk threw up his hands at them. “Just give us a minute and we’ll get you out!”

Sans stopped pounding and pointed behind them. The pair turned and behind them stood a tall man, his thin, gray flesh barely holding onto his bones under his dark, gore stained suit. His pale eyes watched them both expressionlessly.

Chara burst out laughing, leaning against Frisk to stay upright. “Is this what happened to you? Oh! This is better than any revenge I could ever think up! What a sorry state you’re in!”

Anger brightened his face where the flesh still clung to his skull. “How DARE you laugh at me, peasant! I am a lord of noble lineage!”

Chara scoffed. “Oh yes. You are surely royal, Harridon. A royal ass! Even worse, you’re walking dead!”

“I am a LICH!” 

He dove at her, arms out. Frisk grabbed Chara’s arm and pulled her out of the way. The undead lord stopped before he crashed into a gurney. He turned, glowering at Frisk.

“How DARE you get in my way?” He dove at Frisk.

Frisk dashed to the side, leading the undead in a circle away from Chara and back toward the door. 

“Frisk!”

Frisk dropped his backpack to the floor and pulled his ritual knife from where he’d hidden it in his sleeve. “Get Sans and Papyrus out of that thing. I’ll take care of the revenant.”

The undead hissed. “I am not a revenant! I am a lich!”

Frisk shook his head, carefully walking backwards. “Impossible. You don’t have the materials down here for that. You’re a revenant and considering that your eyes aren’t glowing when you look at us, we aren’t your enemies. So… I wonder who is? You got your so called ‘revenge.’ What’s keeping you up and around, dead man?”

Harridon rushed him with a screech. Frisk dodged to one side only to have the undead stop on a dime and turn to grab at him again. Frisk slashed at Harridon, catching one long arm. The undead howled in pain and slammed into him, attempting to pin Frisk to the wall. Frisk slid down, letting Harridon’s hands hit the wall, and turned, heading into the long hall with the raucous fans. 

The undead gave chase, half flying down the hall. Frisk grabbed the door jam of the room full of bunk beds and used it to swing himself inside. The fleshy amalgam was slamming away at the bunks, destroying them in an attempt to find him and Chara. Frisk whistled and the thing snap turned, rushing for him. He dove to the side just as Harridon got to the door. The amalgam screeched in absolute delight, pounding against Harridon, looking to suck him into its mass.

“Well, I guess that answers who made the amalgam, huh?” Frisk took a moment to get his breath back only have his jaw drop in horror.

The amalgam, having claimed Harridon, stretched and grew. The bones inside the amalgam assembled themselves into long, reverse jointed legs. Viciously clawed, human hands, on the ends of too long arms stretched the available flesh to it’s limit. The mass of assembled rib cages finally split the flesh open, dripping black blood and rotten entrails all over the floor. A neck made impossibly long by multiple spines connecting thrust through the flesh at the singular pair of shoulders to reveal Harridon’s putrid face on the end. 

Frisk let out a held breath. “Okay. Still feels like a revenant.”

A clawed hand slashed at him and he dove to the side, narrowly missing a broken bunk and knocking himself out. The clawed hand grabbed him around the waist and casually tossed him into a wall. Frisk gripped his knife tightly to avoid dropping it when he hit the wall and bounced to the floor. The thing stalked over to him as he crawled to his feet.

Frisk spit the blood from his mouth. “So this is how we’re going to do things today? I can work with that.” He pressed the knife across his palm just lightly enough to knick the skin and raise a few drops of blood. Whispering the spell under his breath, his knife turned red and extended into a sword, dripping a deep, crimson fluid. It slashed at him again and he swung the blade, cutting the clawed fingers from the hand that came at him.

The thing roared, rearing back from him. Frisk squeezed his hand and forced a trickle of blood from the wound. The head whipped around and the thing pounced at him to stop him from casting. Frisk leapt to the right and rolled to keep from stumbling into a row of smashed bunk beds. Coming to his feet, he spied a hallway across the room. He ran for it, carefully picking his path through the smashed bunks.

The creature spun around and jumped after him, only to land the wrong way on the debris littering the floor. Its legs went out from under it and it crashed to the floor, howling as it was impaled on too many pieces of wood. The head swung around and out toward him.

Harridon’s voice hissed from what was left of the thing’s mouth. “You vile worm!” 

Frisk raised an eyebrow, not the least bit impressed. “Revenants have a single minded fury when faced with the person they blame for their condition. When he sees the object of his hate, his eyes will glow and he will attack relentlessly until that person is dead.”

“That filthy whore did this to me!”

Frisk casually swung the sword, lopping off the arm that reached for him. “That’s for insulting Her Highness.”

The thing howled, rolling across the floor in an attempt to get it’s feet under it.

“You were the one who attacked her. Even the most delusional of undead would not mistake a victim for a criminal. They are incapable of doing so. So how are you up and walking around? Was this the wrath of the fog?”

“That putrid mass trapped me under this wretched mountain!”

Frisk smiled. “You raised yourself.” He looked around the room, looking for a restroom or a closet space, anything that might have a mirror. Not seeing one, he headed for the hallway he’d spied earlier. The thing found its feet and raced after him. 

In the hall, he found exactly what he was looking for, a set of mirrors hanging over a line of sinks. He squeezed his hand, forcing the trickle of blood again, and tossed the red fluid to the floor while he whispered. The creature crashed after him and slammed into his spell, it’s barrier locking it in place. As the head whipped around on it’s too long neck, Frisk grabbed it, pulling it through the barrier with a sickening pop. Using everything he had, he forced the head to look at itself in the mirror.

The creature’s eyes began to glow, finally seeing its prey. Frisk let go of the head and it swung around, screaming.

“NO! NO!” 

It thrashed against the barrier, tearing itself apart inside the spell Frisk had trapped it in. When all the pieces had been rent apart and all that was left was a quivering mass of flesh, Frisk dropped the containing spell. Reaching into a pocket, he pulled out a very small, carved crystal bottle. Popping it open, he dumped the clear liquid inside on the mass and stood back as it began to burn with a black and smokeless flame. 

Once the flame had done it’s job, Frisk knelt, holding the glass to the floor and the clear liquid slid along the floor and back into the bottle.

“*holy hell, kid! i didn’t know you could do that!”

Frisk looked up to see Sans and Papyrus, neither looking the worse for wear with Chara at the end of the hallway. 

He pocketed the tiny bottle. “Of course you didn’t. I never take you with me on jobs.”

Chara ran over to him. “You’re bleeding!”

Frisk waved her off. “It’s not bad. Just a few scratches.”

“You were thrown into a wall, Frisk.”

He shrugged. “You saw that, huh?”

Chara looked at the brothers. “Is he always like this?”

“SHRUGGING OFF WHAT COULD BE SIGNIFICANT INJURY? OFTEN.”

Frisk huffed, dispelling the magic on his knife before putting it away. “Thanks for ratting me out.”

“YOU’RE WELCOME.”

Chara sighed. “Let’s get back to the palace.”

Frisk shook his head. “That barrier I put up to trap the thing took a lot out of me to cast it so fast and keep it powerful. I don’t have the energy to teleport us back. We’ll need to walk.”

“*nah, kid. i’ll just take us on a short cut.”

“A short cut…?”

The world around them dissolved into darkness and when light came back, they stood in Chara’s room. Queen Toriel sat with Prince James and Princess Chara, shaking nervously. Emily prepped tea though no one looked to be interested. On seeing her only living child, Toriel threw her arms around Chara, holding her tightly. 

“Don’t ever scare me like that again!”

Chara hugged her mother tightly. “I’m fine. Frisk may need attention though.”

“I said I was fine.”

Chara let go of her mother in order to round on Frisk. “You were tossed into a wall and you’re lucky you weren’t impaled on the debris in the room!”

“Would anyone care to explain what happened?” James asked.

Frisk glared at the brothers. “I would like an explanation as well.”

Sans shrugged, hands in the pockets of his blue jacket. “*when we went through the warehouse, i sensed undead, so papyrus and i went back to check it out.”

Frisk inhaled noisily. “You told me you didn’t find anything.”

“NOT THE FIRST TIME. WE COULDN’T FIND THE STAIRS AND EVENTUALLY FOUND A SET OUTSIDE THE BUILDING INTO THE BASEMENT.”

“*that big machine you saw? seems like harridon used it to make himself a couple amalgam undead. we were destroying one when he got us from behind and stuck us inside.”

Chara blanched. “There were more than the one of those things?”

James stood. “Harridon is alive?”

Frisk shook his head. “Harridon is several shades of dead and never coming back. I destroyed what was left of his body with dark fire water.”

Princess Chara looked at him, eyes narrowed. “That is an incredibly rare substance.”

“*the kid makes it and spider cider.”

“Is that so?”

James looked at his sister. “He took our aunt into danger.”

Frisk rolled his eyes. “I’ve known your aunt all of three days and I can tell you right now that when she wants something, no one is standing her in way.”

James continued to look at his sister. “Sounds like someone I know.”

Princess Chara smiled. “Exactly. You’re going to overlook the breach. I want his skill set.”

Frisk blinked before shaking his head to shake off the implication. He turned to Sans and Papyrus. “Did you put the other amalgams down?”

“YES.”

“Good.” Frisk nodded and looked down at himself. His clothing was a mess. “Maybe I should take the offer for your old job. It’d be quieter.”

“HARDLY. WHAT YOU DID IN THE WAREHOUSE IS EXACTLY WHAT YOU WOULD BE DOING AS THE ROYAL WIZARD.”

“*i was pretty busy.”

Toriel nodded. “Too many sleepless nights.”

Princess Chara gestured to Frisk. “Let’s get you cleaned up and discuss the reward you’ve earned for bringing Regis Harridon to justice.” 

When Frisk hesitated, Sans patted him on the shoulder. “*go on, kid. and take the job. you’ll do just fine at it.”

“INDEED. I BELIEVE MY DAUGHTER WOULD PREFER HAVING YOU AROUND.”

A soft flush caught Frisk’s cheeks and he quickly left with the princess.

Toriel pulled her daughter to the couch. “Sit, Chara. You still have so many presents yet to open. You only opened a few yesterday.”

Chara stared at all the gifts, frowning a little.

“Is something wrong, My Child?”

“I guess, I just keep looking for something that showed they remembered me. All of these gifts are beautiful and wonderful but look like they were given partly as a statement. None of them are for me. Just an idea of me.”

Toriel smiled softly. “Oh Chara. They never forgot you. Here. Why don’t we skip all of this and go to the end.” 

She pointed and Emily slid a large and heavy package from the table and placed it on Chara’s lap. 

“This was the very last gift your father placed here before he died. He hadn’t been well for a while but he was determined that he would choose this last gift and that it would be the best of the lot. The ladies at the shop were so lovely, helping him around and pulling things from shelves he couldn’t reach from the wheelchair.”

Chara pulled the ribbon and pushed the brightly colored paper aside to reveal books. Knitting books. One hand touched her mouth, a smile tugging her open lips, trembling as the other hand gently caressed the covers.

James lifted a massive basket wrapped in so many layers of cellophane that you couldn’t see the contents. He set it on the coffee table in front of his aunt. “This is the last one Dad left for you.”

Hesitating a moment, she reached out and pulled the green bow that held all the wrapping in place. The layers of cellophane fell open like a flower to reveal a basket filled with knitting needles, supplies, and beautiful yarns.

Toriel reached out, petting her daughter’s head. “No one ever forgot _you_ , My Love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it for 'The Inconvenience of Memory!' 
> 
> If you liked it, please leave me kudos or a comment, and have a Happy Halloween!


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